Coming Back
by Charlotta Gryffis
Summary: "I love you, my little princess." Clint frowned. Who was Natasha talking to? Rated K, one-shot.


"I love you, my little princess."

Clint frowned at Natasha's words. He heard the distinct click of her cell hanging up and wondered just who her 'little princess' was.

* * *

Sighing, she hung up the phone and put it one the coffee table. Dealing with Loki, going on missions...all of it didn't matter to her when Anya came into the picture. Her little girl was Natasha's everything.

And she never got to see her.

She cursed Anya's father. He said until she gave up her life-style, the only contact she would have with her daughter would be on the phone. Tears slowly started to drip down her face, a soft sob making it's way out of her mouth.

* * *

Clint was disturbed when he heard the sob. Going into her apartment, he saw her curled up on her white-leather sofa, wearing a large t-shirt and boy-shorts.

"Nat..." He said, coming over. Sitting down beside her, he let her lean on him as she sobbed. He stroked her hair, whispering soothing words he knew would calm her. When she finally quieted, he looked down at her.

"Nat...what's wrong?"

Her eyes closed and she moved so her head was on his lap, her eyes looking at the ceiling blankly. It was painted like the night sky. He didn't know why, but it was Natasha's apartment, so he wouldn't ask.

"I have a daughter."

His heart leapt to his throat, making him choke slightly.

"Daughter?"

She nodded. "Anya. Anastasia Lillian Porter-Romanoff. Her father doesn't let me see her."

Clint furrowed his brow. "Why?"

She laughed bitterly. "Clint, what kind of life do we lead, exactly? Until I give it up, I will never see her in person...I get sent pictures in the post, one a year; on her birthday. I'm only allowed four phone-calls a year; and even then, they're monitored."

There was silence for a time, before Clint spoke. "Tell me about her. How old is she?"

"She'll be eight on the first of November. She has a sense of humour, but understands the gravity of everything. Her accent is British, because she lives in Central London. She's small, with long black hair and my curls. Her eyes are emerald green, and they twinkle when she smiles. Her skin is the same shade as mine, and she has a small black dimple beside her right eye. She can do acrobats and gymnastics that would make even the best Circus performers and Olympic gymnasts look amateur; and is the best martial artist in Britain. Her father taught her how to shoot, but she prefers to use old fashioned guns. She got a Colt 1851 Navy for her birthday."

Clint chuckled. "So who's her father?"

Natasha's smile disappeared. "His name is Harold Porter; he's a private billionaire." Her eyes gained a glazed look to them. "He's a kind man, the best kind of man there is. His only flaw to me, is that he has a hero-complex. He wants to save everyone, even if it means keeping them away. He served in the army for six years, in which time I had Anya. She was two years old when he came back and took her. I'm legally not allowed to see her until I quit my job and stop working for the Government."

She sighed before getting up, picking up the phone.

"I want her back, Clint."

He could hear the sadness, want, need in her voice. Standing, he took the phone and programmed in Fury's number. Holding the phone out to her, he just smiled.

"Then go."

She looked down at the cell-phone, before taking it from his hand.

* * *

Anya heard the doorbell go off and frowned. No-one could ring the doorbell unless they were allowed through the gates. Going up to the large double-doors, she opened one and stared at the red-headed woman in front of her.

She wore tight, dark blue skinny-jeans; a white tank-top; and a sandy-brown leather jacket. Sunglasses rested on her face while her long red hair was out with the front held back a bit.

"Hello, who are you?"

The lady smiled. "Hello Anya." She took off her sunglasses and smiled at her.

Anya froze, and felt tears come to her eyes. Daddy had told her about her mother. Of how she was an assassin working for a branch of the American Government. Of how she would come home when she was finished working for good. Of how she loved her.

"Mummy?" She whispered.

The lady smiled and nodded, before coming forward a little. Anya rushed forward and hugged her tightly, crying. Her mother hugged her back before picking her up. Anya could see the tears in her eyes as she stroked her cheek.

"My little princess, I'm here. Don't cry." Her voice was soft and choked with tears. Anya sniffed and wiped her eyes, smiling. She turned her head when she heard footsteps.

Daddy stood there, taken aback. His black hair was messy like usual, and his emerald green eyes were filled with surprise. There was a small glass of whiskey in his hand, looking quite at home with the black-suited man.

"Natasha...you're back."

Anya looked to her mother and saw a hand on her mouth. "Harry."

Her daddy came forward swiftly, stopping when his face was only inches away from mummy's.

* * *

He didn't think she would ever come back; ever quit the job she loved so much despite the violence. Her red curls were out in all their glory, going down to the small of her back in waves. Anya was on her waist, looking happy that she was in her mothers arms. She knew the circumstances of her mothers absence from her life, and had always thought she would come back.

But she hadn't seen the news yet. His little girl hadn't seen the videos of her mother fighting the Chitauri. He wondered how she would react.

Coming forward, so his face was inches from hers, he posed a silent question.

'Are you staying?'

All he got was a nod before her lips were on his.

* * *

Natasha watched with tears in her eyes as Anya said, 'I do' to Jeffrey Barton. Looking around, she smiled at her comrades in arms. Clint stood off to the side, his wife on his arm as his son married her daughter. He caught her eye and the two shared a grin.

Bruce, Steve, and Tony all stood in suits the aisle behind Clint, watching with fond smiles. Pepper stood with Tony, their fifteen year old twins, Anthony the Third and Virginia 'Nia' Stark beside them. Bruce stood with Betty, no children of their own, but an adopted daughter called Jennifer standing beside them. Steve was the only one without a girl. Instead, his best friend Bucky, found alive as the Winter Soldier and fixed up properly, stood by him; his metal arm not visible under the suit-jacket and glove-set.

Harold was the only one missing. He had died when Anya was nineteen, after going back to Afghanistan to fight for his country. Anya had gone up the aisle alone.

But she never regretted coming back.


End file.
